Simple Man
by VioletViolence
Summary: My life, my family, had begun to fall apart even before all this started. In a way the genocide of mankind started to bring us back together, bring me back together. It was selfish of me to think, but maybe there was a higher purpose to this new life.
1. Introduction: 21

**Simple Man**

_"Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

** Introduction: 21**

For the past few months I had been completely indifferent about my twenty-first birthday. At first I thought it was because I'd already been twenty-one for the last four years, even had the plastic to prove it, I thought there was no value in a mile stone so many people wait years to reach since going into a bar and ordering a White Russian or a Bloody Mary or even a shot of straight up liquor was no longer a novelty. I realize now though that birthday parties, like blow dryers and chocolate- warm summers in front of an air conditioner and warm showers that leave you feeling clean and cozy before you bundle yourself in blankets and go to bed, are one of the many luxuries most people including myself took for granted before the world ended.

Today I would have woken up to the sweet aroma of pancakes cooking on a hot griddle and the sound of grease sizzling and popping as it fried the eggs and bacon my momma would have had cooking on the stove. I would have walked into our kitchen and seen a big beaming smile on her delicate face before she brushed the hair out of mine and planted a firm loving kiss on my forehead mumbling "Happy birthday baby girl." into it. We would have had mimosas and spent a quiet afternoon just us girls watching chick flicks and getting tipsy together for the first time. When my dad came home early from the station (because he always did on my birthday) and my kid brother got home from school, we'd dig into a chocolate on chocolate with chocolate chips cake and open presents. We'd float on pillow soft clouds of nostalgia as mom an dad gushed over baby pictures and old school photos and they told my brother stories about what life and his big sister were like before he was born. For that one whole day, everything bad would disappear, and we would be the version of the Grimes family all of King County thought we were. Loving. Happy. Perfect.


	2. Chapter 1: The Pack

**Simple Man**

_"Be a simple kind of man, be someone you love and understand."_

**Author's Note- **Hi, this is the first official chapter of my first official story on here and I'm stoked, this chapter is a little more introductory to kinda give you an idea of who Delilah is and what her take on the way the world is going is namely how she feels about her group. Daryl will not be in this chapter but he is coming (that's what she said) don't worry. If you read this hoping to get immediate Daryl/OC action your reading the wrong story, that relationship will develop slowly-but surly. I would love to get lots of reviews good or bad but let's be honest you people are lazy (not judging- I'm the laziest mofo you'll ever meet) none the less I encourage you to review any way, Please?

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Pack<strong>

"Shit!" I croaked in a voice so ragged it sounded like I'd spent every second of my 20 years chain smoking. Always the unsound sleeper I was used to having the space in my queen sized pillow top back home to kick around in. Downgrading to a used army cot, narrower than a pin needle, had made it nearly impossible for my face to stop making friends with the hard packed dirt under the floor of my tent as I was jolted awake nearly every morning by my body colliding with the ground. My muscles ached from the fall, not to mention the awkward position I'd slept in, and I contemplated the possibility of just staying on the ground in my wife beater and yoga pants and falling back asleep. It was turning into a solid plan until a head of thick brown hair, that needed a good trim, poked in through the front flap of my tent. My kid brother's big blue eyes swept over me, curled up on the floor-hair askew-clothes bunched up like someone need to give my whole body an ironing. He laughed at the sight and instead of reaching for a pillow to shuck at him I smiled, because in the kind of world we were living in now any moment of happiness I could give Carl no matter how miniscule was worth more to me than all the queen sized beds in all the world combined.

"What's up lil' lion man?"

"Mom want's you to come eat, canned beans and Spam again..."

He made a stink face at the prospect of yet another morning's meal consisting of mostly the canned processed meat we had a large supply of since mine and Glenn's last looting trip into the city. I wanted to scold him for not being thankful that he was eating at all, but even I had to admit the Spam was getting close to nauseating after eating it with almost every meal for the past week and a half.

"It's what we got, kiddo, sometimes ya just gotta suck it up and move on. Tell you what though, next time me and Glenn sneak into the city, I'll try ta' russell you up some beef jerky."

He smiled up at me as I put an arm around his shoulder, he was just tall enough to reach a little past my hip, and we strode to the fire pit closest to Dale's (our resident wise old grandfather) Winnebago. Those steely blues gleamed at the idea of me bringing him back something he loved-a familiar treasure from our past life, almost made want to cry how much those eye's reminded me of our da- no not going there, not today. I'd shed a few tears while I took one of my lone walks through the forest surrounding the bluff we were camped out at, shed a few more onto my pillow before I fell into a survivor's sleep (never fully unconscious, just dozing like a shark ready for the first sign of something not right in the air), but I would not let my weakness seep out into our refugee world for all to see. There was simply no room for it.

"Lilah baby, somethin' wrong?"

I didn't realize I'd been standing by the fire pit staring off into nothing as my mother held out a plate of warm re-fried beans and spam, her smokey gray eyes were pleading as she crinkled her brow and probably prayed I wasn't having some kind of metal breakdown. The sudden jolt back into reality made me feel all the pairs of eyes on me and I felt suddenly self conscious in front of our little rag-tag group sitting around a crackling fire no longer stuffing their mouths but waiting on my answer. I had been doing this a lot lately, getting so deep in my own head that it took my mother's ever worried stern voice and the unwanted attention of almost everyone in camp to bring me back.

"No ma, just tired."

She smiled, excepting the explanation without question, for the moment, handing me my food and ushering me towards a seat in between Amy and little Sophia on the makeshift couch/car seat we'd gutted out of an old van. The blond smiled and immediately delved into a mostly one sided conversation about god knows what (school and guys and a whole bunch of stuff that no longer existed or mattered anymore) . The rest of the group seemed to be doing the same more or less, Dale and Jim (a tall slender man never without his ball cap his scruffy beard and his vast knowledge of automobiles and the like) were in a heated discussion about a radiator hose. Glenn (my favorite Korean-American geek and occasional looting partner in crime) and Carl were facing off about some video game I've never heard of and it was getting ugly fast-you haven't seen funny until you've seen a grown nerd and a twelve year old arguing over x-box like they were candidates at the presidential debate. My mother Lori, Amy's sister Andrea, and Carol Sophia's mom were chatting like a sewing circle. They were the matriarchal mother hens of the group, quickly forming a tight bond over the young people they looked after. Andrea, a towhead like her younger sister with a few more years under her belt shown clearly in the deepening lines around her mouth as well as the very mature and pristine way she carried herself, used to be some kind of lawyer- I could easily see her in a well fitted blazer and blouse having martini's with colleagues at an upscale Atlanta bar after closing a big important case Law and Order style. Carol was and still is a homemaker, she had a gentle soft spoken nature and was always the first one to wish you a good night or a "be Safe". A devoted mother, Sophia and her safety were Carol's world, She was the kind of mother who wrote little notes filled with love and put them in your lunch bag. We were a motley crew of human beings, different in so many ways. It's almost funny how much we shouldn't work as a unit-we wouldn't have in our old lives, most of us wouldn't have even approached one another. Somehow though, camped out by a quarry a good few miles away from Atlanta, in a world where the dead rise and prey on the living and all you can do is fight with all you're worth to survive and all you have is the people around you to help keep you safe-our group of missed matched misfits thrives. We look out for each other, we work together, and most of all when one of us falls we help keep their hope alive.

_ -"As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk the law runneth forward and back, for the strength of the pack is the wolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack."_


	3. Chapter 2: The Dixons and Dirty Laundry

**Simple Man**

"_Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**Author's Note: **Thank you to TheSpazChik, Jezebella Corvae and eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE for your much appreciated reviews and to qlara for putting my story on your alert list- I hope I don't disappoint. Also I wanted to tell y'all that I've been picturing Kaya Scodelario, with a southern drawl, as Delilah so you should go look her up on Google or Tumblr or something (she's got those blue Grimes eyes). I hope you guys like this I've been writing and rewriting for days and by the time I was done my brain was fried, so if you find something you don't like or you think something sounds bad or there are any grammatical mistakes please write a review and tell me. Or just write a review any way because I love those.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: The Dixons and Dirty Laundry<strong>

After breakfast Amy and I went tent to tent with big plastic tubs collecting the camp's endless supply of dirty laundry, a chore it seemed like we were permanently assigned to, we would start with the the RV then she would go left and I would take the tents on the right flank then we'd take the clothes down to the quarry's creek and join Andrea Carol and Jaqui in washing them as best we could with the practiacally archaic homemade detergent and washboards we had (I could almost hear Carol longing for her Maytag every time she passed a soapy shirt over the wavy metal board). There was a sheen of perspiration coating my entire body by the time Amy and I met in the middle of our collecting circle, not even the Daisy Dukes and white wife beater I'd changed into could help fend off the harsh Georgia summer temperature that had already hit triple digits and was sure to keep climbing, my messy top bun was soaked in scalp sweat and my thick cut side swept bangs were practically glued to my forehead. Amy not looking any better, her porcelain skin flushed deep red and her thin silky blond locks sticking in wet strands to the back of her neck, dropped her bin and dug through it pulling out two ice cold bottles of water she'd snagged from the cooler in the RV. I couldn't help the cartoon like grin that spread wide across my lips as I took the one she offered to me and chugged half of it down not caring if it made me sick.

"Heaven, I'm in Heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speeeeeeak..."

I sang out shakily before finishing the bottle and trying to steady my breathing, Amy giggled almost choking on her water before wiping her lips and doing the same.

"You're so weird, Lilah..."

"You're so awesome, I needed that, and thank god for the courtesy around here-I think I would'a passed out from heat stroke by now if I had ta go diggin' through people's tents to find their dirty laundry."

Most everybody in the camp we washed for was kind enough to use the milk crates outside their tent to dispose of dirty clothing, that way all we had to do was dump the crates into our bins and move on without having to even touch or go looking for crusty socks or sweaty pit stained shirts or anything else made all the more foul by the 106 degree weather and the fact that no one's had a proper shower for three **long** weeks.

"Well, not _everyone's_ so courteous..." Amy added dryly gazing at the lone tent set far apart from the rest. We both seemed to sigh heavily at the same time thinking of the big bad wolves that made that den, the Dixon brothers were the outliers of our little group, they stayed on the fringes never really interacting with the rest of us-well Daryl did anyway. His noticeably older brother Merle, a rougher man possibly army veteran with a buzz cut and a body built like a tree, did plenty of interacting- non of it was friendly. When it came to people Merle was like a kid with a Happy Meal toy, he liked to wind you up and watch you go. Louis Morales almost put a bullet through his head when Merle declared very loudly that he didn't want "Those little wet back bastards" (the Morales kids Louis Jr. and Eliza) running around by his tent, it took Miranda (Louis' wife) my mom, me, and Shane to keep the man from putting a buck shot in the older Dixon. Merle just sat back and laughed like a child watching Looney Toons, his dilated pupils and trembling hands a clear indicator that he was high off his ass again, just looking for something to entertain him while he road the white horse. He was a cruel, antagonistic, racist bastard, plain and simple. If he wasn't out with Daryl hunting, or in the woods getting drugged up, he was sitting on his big lazy ass in a camping chair in front of his tent-drinking a beer chain smoking and throwing out crude comments like fishing lines hoping they would reel someone (who was actually working) in and start a fight or an argument or something that would make his miserable pathetic life interesting. I think that's the reason the Dixons even stayed after that night in the woods, they didn't need the group like everyone else, they had survival skills that far surpassed those of anyone I had ever met- they could make it on their own.

"I did it last time..."

Amy whined, eyes shifting between her tub of dirty clothes and Merle who was now sitting on his camping chair lighting up a smoke and cracking open a can of PBR (_where does he even get this stuff?_), big surprise. I groaned realizing she was right, Amy had actually collected their laundry for the past few days, I wanted to argue and tell her it didn't count because on all three occasions the brothers had been gone but that would just be stalling since I knew Amy was too much of a pussy to budge on this one- pretty blond white easy to get to Amy had been the target of too many of Merle Dixon's overtly sexual antagonistic comments to willingly enter his realm and face another round of them. Not to mention he just plain scared the crap out of her. I decided to suck it up and take it on the chin. Dumping my bin into Amy's I told her to go ahead to the quarry without me, I'd catch up, she nodded picking up the heavy load and starting her trek humming that tune they always played in old movies- you know the one they use while the hero walks to his death. Thanks Amy.

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><p>"Well hey there baby doll, come to visit lil' ole me in ma' lonesome, ain't that sweat..."<p>

Merle's tone was sickly sweet, his voice sounded like somebody ran a coarsely gritted piece of sandpaper over his vocal chords. I rolled my eyes and dropped my empty basket by his chair, when it came to the older Dixon I found it was best to state your business and be done as quick as possible.

"Collectin' dirty laundry, ya got any?"

He didn't answer, just chuckled menacingly as I peered over his shoulder at the milk create Andrea left by his tent the day we'd come up with the laundry system, it looked full so I walked around Merle with my bin to collect and almost upchucked this mornings Spam and beans. There were a few dozen rotting little rodent remains piled up in the thick plastic box. It was sickening, not to mention dangerous- who knew how many walkers you could attract with the smell of fresh scrap meat-when the putrid scraps were fresh, and Merle Dixon did it just to piss in my Cheerios.

"What's a matter sugar tits? Ain't that s'pposed ta be a garbage can?"

Merle asked, a cruel smirk playing on his mouth, as he feigned ignorance and threw another piece of tiny animal scrap he'd found on the ground by his feet into the create.

"If it was you'd sure as shit be in it."

Not my best but I was fuming and couldn't think of much else, and he knew it. He gave me another chuckle and as if he was throwing me a bone or something dropped the act and said,

"We got a few things need a good washin'..." then he added with a Cheshire grin "in the tent, make sure you don't wake sleepin' beauty."

This wasn't a bone it was a challenge, I could see it in the way his heys measured me up like he wanted to see if I had the nerve to do it, and hell if I'm backing down to this bully who has the nerve to call himself a man. _Fine Merle let's play that game-even without a real washer I bet I could still manage to turn all your whites pink. _Without batting an eye I walked into their tent and started to pick up each and every one of the sweaty, grimy, bloody garments I saw- not stopping even when I felt Merle's eye staring holes into the unobstructed view he had as I bent over repeatedly or even when he'd say things like "Damn girl, like to get me a piece a that, oh now don't be like that honey, why don't you set that lil ass down on daddy's lap-see how much you like it."

_Laugh while you can ya dirty old bastard, poison oak in his underwear, maybe a dead fish __accidentally folded into one of his shirts, I'm sure Dale has a thumbtack or two lying around that could get misplaced the pocket of his jeans..._

It was childish I know but thinking of all the little ways I could fuck Merle's day up just made me feel better, plus it helped me ignore him. It also built one track in my mind (get clothes, get out), so I didn't even see Daryl Dixon sleeping on the cot I had bent over by to pick up the last of the dirty socks until his beaming steely blue eyes snapped open, in one quick fluid motion he grabbed my wrist with one hand jerking me toward him as the other hand slipped his skinning knife out of it's sheath on his belt and brought the point under my chin pressing upwards.

"Christ, s' okay just gettin' laundry."

My words came out in a ragged breath, and he took a moment to adjust his tired eyes and make out what was really in front of him before curling his lip in agitation and pushing me a way while he let loose the vise-like grip he'd had on me. A red shadow of where his powerful grip had cinched around my wrist was already starting to form on my pale skin, as I assessed it I didn't even see him sit up in his cot and pull his shirt over his head until he was tossing it in my bin.

"Here, and try being **quiet** next time."

The younger Dixon snarled out of the side of his mouth before tossing a few more things he'd gotten from the other side of the cot my way, then he flopped back down and turned away, leaving with the entire expanse of his back to ogle not to mention a prior view of his bare chest and stomach. I'd seen Daryl with his shirt off before, a few times actually when he was walking back from bathing in the creek, but seeing him-actually _seeing_ him up close and personal was different than the little glimpses I'd never really paid any mind to. At this distance I had seen the strong abdominal tendons shifting under his skin as he turned onto his side and got comfortable. I could make out the well defined chords of muscle in his arms, and as I got a good look at his body I found my eyes wandering up to his face-you could actually say Daryl was good lookin' in a rugged rough and tumble kind a way. He was covered in a layer of grime and sweat but unlike the rest of us he seemed to be okay with it, his thin lips were framed by a scraggly goatee and there was a perfectly placed mole just outside of it on the left side of his mouth.

"You starin' at som'in in **particular** girl or have you just never seen a man tryin' to get some god damned sleep before!"

There I go again, catching myself standing around awkwardly looking all brain dead, except this time it was the biting words of Daryl Dixon yanking me back from somewhere in my head I shouldn't have gone.

"Ya know if you weren't such a mean old ass, you might actually be pleasant to look at Daryl Dixon."

I just barely heard him scoff and mumble "Ya whatever bitch", before exiting the tent and making to catch up with Amy down the trail leading to the quarry. Merle called out after me, having heard the entire exchange,

"Told ya not wake sleepin' beauty girly." I had just enough time to casually respond "Oh bite me, Elmer Fudd" before disappearing down the path.


	4. Chapter 3: A Walker Stole my Chucks

**Simple Man**

"_Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**Author's Note: **Thank you to corbsxx, eloquent dreams, eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE, GraciellaRed74, justrae9903, and PaganButterfly for adding me to your alert list. Special thank you to Jezebella Corvae for putting my story on your favorites list, that is such I huge honer and I've been as happy as a fat man on a mountain of cupcakes all day about it. I hope Y'all like this chapter and if you don't write a review and tell me why, or write a review anyway because who doesn't love reviews?

**corbsxx: **Effy is my favorite Skins character of all time and I don't know about you but I'm totally team Cook, and I'm sooooooo glad you liked my story enough to take the time to tell me I hope you like this chapter and I hope you continue to review.

**Rebelrose88:** Glad your loving it and I'll try my best.

**GraciellaRed74:** It is so cool and so appreciated that you took the time to PM me your third chapter review to make sure I saw it and I did and am as giddy as a cheerleader on crack to know that you like my story. I think the oldest child usually tends to take after their father a little more and I really wanted to bring Ricks determination and strength to my OC and I'm so glad you noticed it. Yours have been the most thoughtful reviews I've gotten so far, not that I demand thoughtful reviews I'm happy just hearing people say they enjoy my story, but it is so appreciated when someone takes the time to really read and think about my writing. I'm so glad you liked my lil' smut tease, grimy sweaty clothes make it even more sexy. I totally get having a thing for Merle- reckless, wild, dangerous who could resist?

**eloquent dreams:** I'm so glad you enjoy my banter, in my head I'm usually a lot funnier than people really think I am, so it's all kinds of Borat "Niiice" that you got a cute chuckle out of my story. I'm going to try to have a new chapter out every three days at most-but don't hold me to it.

**eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE:** Is this a soon enough update for you lol? Staying true to the Dixons' southern drawl and mannerisms is one of my main priorities with this story so thank you for noticing.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: A Walker Stole my Chucks<strong>

When I had reached the small group of women doing the laundering Amy was already there, and she had a myriad of questions along with everyone else about why I took so long. I went through the story, taking my seat in-between Andrea and Carol, and filled my plastic tub with creek water until it covered the top of the Dixon's laundry. Carol gave me the faintest little smile and a small ration of detergent to pour in. I omitted a few details-like the fact that I'd embarrassed myself checking out a half naked Daryl- that part of the story I'd take to my grave. As soon as I mentioned the rodent carcases Andrea threw me a look of bewilderment and huffed,

"That is just sick, first time I even heard that man open his mouth I knew there was somethin' wrong with him."

"Next time tell em' he wants his nasty laundry done by us, he bes get off his lazy lily white ass and use the basket."

Jacqui, a tall black women with perfectly smooth skin save for a few wrinkles here and there and an endearingly sassy sense of humor, threw in shaking her head as she wrung out one of Jim's flannel shirts with a forceful snap. By the end of my re-telling Amy (who had remained uncharacteristically quiet) spoke up,

"'Swear that create was empty every time _I_ went through their tent, I would have warned you if there were a bunch of dead squirrels in it."

There was this apologetic look on her face, and tone to her voice, like it was her fault Merle Dixon was a prick, I told her not to worry about it and I knew she would have told me had she seen the festering scraps before. Though she smiled exceptionally, something in Amy's eyes told me she wasn't letting this go- I'd have to tuck that one away for later when we didn't have a hundred pounds of laundry to get the stink out of.

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><p>It was maybe four or five o'clock by the time we'd finished, the sun was setting in a clear Georgia sky casting rays of pink and purple hue before the darkening blue, Ed Peletier (Carol's husband) came around in his Cherokee to take us and the damp clothes back to camp. I couldn't stand Ed, I hated the way he talked to his family, I hated the way he looked at my ass when Andrea and I were putting bins in the back of his car, I especially hated the way all he did all day everyday was sit on his ass drinking beer- if Merle Dixon didn't hate him too you'd think they be best friends, but I couldn't help but appreciate the fact that the only exception to his do nothing rule was that he always came and took us back to camp. I'd rather live out my experience with the Dixons this morning for the rest of my life than walk uphill with a tub full of damp laundry. When we got back my mom and Miranda were just starting dinner- fried Spam and cream of chicken with a side of canned fruit. The day's chores had been done and most people were just loitering about waiting for meal time, with the exception of Dale breaking out the flatware. Before Amy Andrea Jacqui and I could unload the laundry, Carl was already running up to me the moment I hopped off the tail gait of the Cherokee, his shaggy hair swaying in the breeze. The other ladies waved me off, saying they could handle hanging the damp clothes on the line. As I walked toward my kid brother I realized he had something in his hands, when he got a bit closer I saw it was the biggest damn bullfrog I'd ever seen.<p>

"Look what me and Sophia caught in the woods! I named him Bully."

You'd never seen a kid so happy, his eyes were beaming like that frog could turn straw into gold. Squatting down to Carl's level, me and Bully got real up close and personal. I wanted to tell him the truth, that our mother would never let that thing live in her and Carl's tent and he'd eventually have to let it go, but I'm just the sister-I'll leave crushing Carl's dreams of a pet bull frog to mom this time. So instead of being the bad cop I did what a normal sister would do, I ruffled his messy brown hair and praised his frog.

"That is very cool lil' man. You and Sophia should be proud uh yourselves."

There was this nagging feeling I had in the pit of my stomach telling me to not let the kid get too excited over something he's not going to be able to keep, but I vowed to ignore it as Carl and I walked to the fire pit to sit down with Sophia and fawn over their catch. I was sick of being the bad guy, not that anyone had asked me to be, it just seemed like Carl only did something or wanted to do something when my mother wasn't around- making me the one he came to first. Like when him and Sophia wanted to go play around in the woods, he called it exploring I called it a bad idea (_hasn't he learned anything?_), he pleaded with me that it wasn't that dark out yet and he would stay within screaming distance but I wouldn't budge. I got the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. There was also that time he wanted to see if Merle would let him play on his bike- that was a big fat _hell_ no, then there was the pillow case parachute off the RV idea- even Dale got in on putting the kibosh on that one and there are plenty more times just like it when I had to step up and put Carl back in line- Christ I'm starting to feel like my mother is _never_ around. Well, she is now, and _she's_ gonna be the one dealing with Carl's big blue eyes staring up at her and then seeing the hope and excitement drain out of them before he pouts like a small child at her for the rest of the day.

"I think we should name it Matilda."

Sophia, the most soft spoken gentle little girl you'd ever meet, told Carl. He shook his head and made a face, scrunching up his little freckle speckled nose.

"Bully's a boy, you can't name a boy Matilda."

"How do **you** know it's a boy?"

I about fell out of my chair laughing at the truly perplexed look on Carl's face, so did Sophia. Carl had a smart mouth, and even though I always had the upper hand when it came to him and me arguing, it was nice to see him get bested by quiet little Sophia. It was also nice to see her, a well deserved smug smile tugging up the corners of her lips, shoulders a little straighter, face held a little higher-until she noticed me noticing and a bashful tint of pink flushed across her cheeks and she looked down again demurely. I _was_ enjoying the moment but then Carl looked up at me with question in his eyes and the words playing on his lips.

"Don't ask me bud, I have noooo idea."

"No idea about what?"

My mother asked taking a seat next to me as people had started pulling up camp chairs and turned over milk creates around the fire pit Dale, Jim, T-Dog, the Morales family, Amy, Andrea, Jaqui, and Carol who had finished hanging the laundry. Even Ed pulled up a chair to eat with the rest of the group.

"How to tell a boy bullfrog from a girl bullfrog."

Carl answered holding up Matilda Bully right in front of her face so quick she jumped back.

"Where on earth did that come from?"

My mother laughed as Carl explained, him and Sophia found it hopping around in between our tents after their lessons that morning. The group had settled into a sort of relaxed quit, all conversations waning out into silence as our entire circle listened and laughed with Carl and Sophia. The story wasn't anything unique, I'm sure most of the men in the group could recall something similar from their childhood, what made it so special was how normal it was- with all the constant fear inside of us, all the struggle and the heartbreak, it was nice to sit back in front of a warm kindling and listen to a lively little boy talk about something as simple as catching a bullfrog with his best friend. There wasn't a lot of innocence like that left in our world, and it was nice to grab a small piece of it and hold it close to yourself when you could. Looking over at my mother I caught her eye and we sat staring at each other for a moment, as Carl's story ended and he and Sophia were praised all around for their frog catching skills, a look passed between us reading plain and simple "Carl can keep the damned frog." He didn't know it, but the little bit of normal gifted to us all hearing about how he'd caught Matilda Bully had won Carl his frog.

We sat eating in comfortable quiet for a little while, only the sound of little whispers barely reaching ears, forks scraping against plates, and Spam slathered in creamy soup rolling around in mouths could be heard over the crackling embers of our dim fire. My eyes flickered over the faces of our little circle, content with not saying a word and just basking in this moment of peace, until I got this feeling like I had forgotten something. It was really starting to bug me, one of those thoughts you try to grasp onto but the moment you feel it touching your finger tips it slips away, back into the dark corner of your mind you don't have the arm length to reach. I swear I can remember a million pointless things, like what I was wearing the day before summer vacation in eighth grade, or the name of some random waitress I had at IHOP one time, or where the last place I put my favorite pair of Chucks was- under my bed in my parents' house in King Country that was crawling with walkers by now- a completely pointless fact. For some reason whenever I will myself to remembered something I think is important it seems to get away from me the second my head wanders of to somewhere else. Like right now when I should be remembering whatever it is scratching at my brain like a dog left out in the rain, but am instead picturing a walker dragging his boney fungus infested feet around in my favorite pair of comfortably worn in gray Chucks. I almost chuckled at the image but the loud clanking of old tin cans made the breath catch in my throat. T-Dog, Dale, Jim, Morales and every other man in camp had bolted out of their seat and taken up weapons as the women ushered the children to the RV. Before I could try to exhale and ask someone what that could have been I heard the tell tail crack of a crossbow's prod as it's string was being cranked back into the catch and loaded. Something was out there a good few yards beyond the circumference of dim glow of the fire pit in front of the RV. The Dixons didn't intervene unless they were gonna get the chance to shoot something. Fear was a palpable monster, it pushed you into a corner and with your back up against the wall it ripped you open and made you see what your heart was made of- courage or cowardice. I'm proud to say that against that wall, nails digging into my chest ripping out what _I _was really made of, I grabbed the bat Dale passed back to me. He was surprised to see me behind him I could tell by the way his brow popped up for the smallest second, but he gave me this excepting nod the look on his worn old face stern and agreeing, he trusted me to watch his back and it made me all the more confident in helping handle what life had decided to throw at us this time. I stood a little taller next to good ole' grandfather Dale, a few feet behind Daryl, then braced myself for whatever was going to walk out of those woods.

"Careful kid, don't wanna hurt em' too bad with ur _piece uh wood._"


	5. Chapter 4: Fathers

**Simple Man**

_"Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**Author's Note:** Big thank you to **Poshy** for subscribing I hope you love this story as much as I love writing it. I would also like to thank the over 200 hundred people who read my story this past month but I don't know your names, so if your reading this chapter you should sub if you like it or write a review if you don't or if you do-tell me your thoughts tell me your feelings good or bad, it's hard to write for an audience you don't know. To the lov-er-ly audience I do know;

**eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE:** If and when the world ends I would be honored if you looked me up, we could have a beer and watch it burn.

**Jezebella Corvae**: Loving how you notice, and there will be plenty more of that goin' 'round, and the threat just makes it hotter-can you say "Spank me Mr. Dixon"?

**eloquent dreams:** Yes he is, and don't we all love it. Delilah is 20 going on 21, although Norman Reedus is at the better end of 40 he sure doesn't look it with that body so my Daryl is still in his early 30's, Lori and Shane are in their late 30's and Carl is 12

**corbsxx:** So excited for your excitement and I hope this chapter doesn't let you down. Side note I am so thrilled to meet another member of team Ceffy!

**GraciellaRed74:** Your insightful reviews and the way you pick up on everything I try to convey and your adamant appreciation and awesomeness in general are some of the biggest motivators I have to keep pounding my fingers on this key bored and writing the best story I possibly can. You literally make my literary world go round, seriously the smile I get on my face when I read your reviews from my phone has my man suspicious lol. So thank you, thank you, thank you with cherries and naked Dixons on top.

I hope all of you enjoy this chapter, though it is on the shorter side, and I hope all of you grace me with a review good or bad-it's good writer's karma come on!

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Fathers <strong>

"Careful kid, don't wanna hurt em' too bad with ur _piece uh wood._"

Daryl was pretty cocky for a man turned away from a girl with a blunt object, I wanted to snarl back something nasty- I mean really of all the damn times he chooses _now_ to start pressing buttons? But there was a thickness in the air, a tangible tension that turned my stomach into knots, for the second time today a Spam meal began to inch it's way back up my esophagus, I could hardly let a breath out never mind a snarky come-back. Every hair on the back of my neck stood at attention waiting for a noise, or a shift in the leaves or anything that pointed to an outside presence in the woods.

"Maybe it was just the wind..."

Jim suggested from beside Dale, loosening the grip he had on a pair of bolt cutters he'd grabbed in the heat of the moment, I doubt he believed it though- there was still a stiffness to his posture and he couldn't quite steady his breathing as that one sentence came out in a burst of air. Daryl told him to "shut the hell up" nonchalantly, as his eyes peered out into the woods squinting the already narrow slits as if that would miraculously help him see better in the dark, he didn't seem to find anything since he lowered his crossbow and signaled Merle to lower his rifle. That one action seemed to open up my throat and let the oxygen flow in, there was a collective intake of breath as weapons were lowered and I could almost feel the grasp my mother's eyes had on my back loosen.

_We're okay, we're safe, Daryl said we're safe-sort of, he's a grumpy ass but he knows his shit you know that, you can let go of the bat now..._

But I couldn't, not for the life of me, something wasn't right. And as if on some kind of cruel cruel cue...

"Help! Somebody! Help!"

For one second of pure panic the entire camp froze hearing the desperate blood curdling scream come from a mouth we instantly knew was Glenn's. Everyone brandishing a weapon sped off into the forest and as I tried to fallow the bat Dale handed me was whipped out of my hands so quick if I blinked I would have missed.

"Don't think so **princess.**"

Daryl barked, pinning me down with a look so sharp it could have pierced the skin and went right through me, before tossing the bat behind me and fallowing the group. I moved to go after him but a firm hand yanked me back turning me around to face the body it belonged to. I couldn't tell weather my mother wanted to scream or cry, the tight line of her lips and the stiffness of her jaw read anger but even with only the dwindling embers of a dieing fire lighting the space around us I could make out the raw fear behind the rage in her stormy gray eyes. With that look I was no longer a twenty year old woman, fighting to survive in a world where the dead feasted on the supple flesh of the living, but a six year old caught riding her bike too far or wandering off in a supermarket. I thought she might start an argument, or even slap me, but instead she pulled me so tight to her it almost took my breath away, I may be wrong but I thought I heard a small sob escape her tight lips as she held me away from her with both hands on my shoulders, dipping her head down to stare straight into my eyes solemnly.

"You listened to me, Delilah Mae Grimes, you put yourself in harms way like that again I will ring your neck, understood?"

I nodded sincerely before she wrapped her long narrow arms around me again. The way she held me, like if she didn't clinch her arms around me tight as possible I'd fly away, made me think of a time before Carl. When daddy would work late and it be just us on the couch of our two bedroom apartment, watching TV and eating popcorn, she'd run her fingers through my wily wavy brown hair as I drifted off to sleep with my head in her lap- the smell of melted butter and the sound of a made for TV Lifetime movie filling my senses as sleep took me. Before I could indulge any further into the comforting memory of what _was _I snapped back quickly to what _is_ when Glenn and Dale emerge from the woods with Shane's thick muscly arms draped lifelessly over their shoulders. I could almost feel my mother's heart drop into her stomach and the look of sheer dread on her face even though I couldn't see it.

"Oh god, did he get bitten?"

She croaked raggedly, her body stiffening like the plank it had become with poor nutrition. Hearing a set of tennis shoes beating against the ground I knew Carl was running towards us and I caught his shaking body in my arms before he could get to Shane (if he had been bitten there was no way I was letting Carl get too close), as Dale and Glenn passed us to take him to the RV, we fallowed quickly listening to Glenn while he recounted what happened.

"We spotted a walker heading into camp, then it spotted us, so Shane bated em' and took off back the way we came, when I caught up Shane'd lost his gun and was wrestling with the geek, he tripped over his legs and I think he hit his head, he would'a been walker chum if Daryl hadn't nailed Undead Fred with a bolt."

Glenn spoke so fast, his voice quivering in rhythm with his tall slender body, it was hard keeping up with him. The only thing I did understand was that Shane was just knocked out, not bit, not infected, not another life lost to the ungodly creatures that had consumed almost everything and everyone I cared about. That wasn't enough to steady my heart rate as I stared down at the man responsible for bringing us here, laid out on the bed in the back of the Winnebago. To be honest I don't know what scared me more, that a walker had breached our fickle barriers of societal safety or that the only man in my life I could depend on now was laid out unconscious, dreaming an endless dream, the scene so heartbreakingly familiar I couldn't stand being apart of it anymore. As my mother and Carl took up seats by Shane's bedside, watching Dale dress the bloody gash marring the back of his head, I stood off just outside the small space-my lungs couldn't heave in oxygen like there wasn't enough to go around between the six of us. I didn't even notice I'd been inching towards the door, the memory of respirator machines pumping and heart monitors beeping (so clear I could almost smell the cold antiseptic hospital air), my vision fading in and out from an RV in a quarry outside Atlanta to a hospital room in King County. The recollection pulsed in my head like a throbbing bruise except bruises fade away and I would carry this with me always. I felt shame, complete and utter shame, but I couldn't stop my legs from walking out of that RV, once again leaving a father behind.


	6. Chapter 5: A Mother's Child

**Simple Man**

"_Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

Author's Note: Thank you to **WolfenIvy**, **LadyLecter47**, **LittleRin26**, **Amtsy**, **7darkangel7**, and **AutumnKrystal** for subbing, glad you joined the party ladies. And a very big special thank you to GraciellaRed74 and Jezebella Corvae for adding me and my story to your favorites lists it is such a privilege and I promise I will not let you down. Finally to my loyal and awesome reviewers:

**AutumnKrystal**: It is lovely to have another reviewer to give me prospective on my story as a writer who's deep into what she does it's great to have another set of outside eyes. I try the best I can to stay true to Daryl and I'm so glad to hear I'm doing it well and that the comedy angle I try to work in with his dry humor is working for you. I hope to hear from you again on this chapter.

**eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE:** I'm now hell bent on making you fall in love with Shane because he's such a big part of this story and an even bigger part Delilah's life and the Grimes family dinamic now that Rick is gone. As soon as I publish this and read the updated chapters filling my inbox I will be sure to check out your story, love the name by the way, I'm a total CTE fangirl.

**Jezebella Corvae:** The sympathy you feel for Delilah as well as your recognition of the parental themes I tried to really submerge my last chapter with tells me I did my job and I thank you sincerely for your always helpful input. I was a little worried about peoples reception to a story that didn't fallow the show's plot and am so glad you like it, I hope you'll be just as enthusiastic if I do decide to loosely fallow Kirkman's plot with my own twists and spins, and I am sending you love and rockets back for your reassuring reviews.

GraciellaRed74: I have a very weird writing process where inspiration and ideas come in powerful but short spurts so I try to make every word count as much as possible and I'm so happy to hear I'm achieving that goal. You telling me I'm good enough to be published literally made me blush and I can't even think of words to properly describe how much that means to me. I also can't think of words to properly describe how good it feels to know you understand and pick up on everything I'm trying to do and feel the things I try to make you feel. My Naked Dixon Sundae story would be nothing without reviewers like you to assure me I'm going in the right direction. Thank from the bottom of my lil' heart.

**eloquent dreams: **I am always happy to answer any question about my story so if you got any more keep em' comin' and I hope you enjoy this next chapter despite the absence of our beautiful man.

**Corbsxx: **Thank you for making time to review despite your lack of time and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last.

Really quickly, this chapter is going to be from Lori's point of view and it's mostly a flashback but it's also important to her character and Delilah's and their relationship in coming chapters. I hope all of you enjoy it even though Daryl isn't in it and I'm sure most of you have the same beef with Lori that I do. I'll be throwing chapters like this in every once in a while depending somewhat on critical reception, so if you like it or if you hate it or if it just plain bores you don't forget to tell me in a review. I would also like to know if the singing part worked for you, or if it was hard to understand or read, I think that's the only part of this chapter I was a little hesitant about but I wanted to try it, so let me know how you felt about it in the comments.

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: A Mother's Child<strong>

**-Lori**

No matter how old you get, you will always be your mother's child. My daughter is coming up on her twenty-first birthday, and yet I still find myself looking at this grown girl with the curves of a woman and seeing the lanky eight year-old I sung to sleep and kissed goodnight. Eight, that's how old she was when Carl was born, damn if she wasn't hell bent on being the best big sister she could be- I'd catch her talking to him like she really thought he understood (hell maybe he did), "I'ma look out for you lil' man" she'd say whenever she changed a diaper or rocked him to sleep. That was also the year she was the only kid outside the choir to get a solo in her music class' spring recital. The day she told us she about jumped out of her skin she was so excited, the image of her little body crossed legged on the floor of our living room watching every musical we owned until she wore the tapes out is so vivid in my mind I can almost hear her voice smooth as Carl's little backside singing along to Stockard Channing as Rizzo in _Grease_ or Judy Garland as Dorthy in_ The Wizard of Oz_. Rick and I would watch with pride swelling in our hearts yanking at it's strings until we choked up seeing our baby girl, so alive and in tune with the words belting out of her mouth, her long skinny frame swaying gracefully with the lyrics- hands, arms, legs, feet, expressing just as much as her voice. Even as a child she did everything with all of herself. Especially argued with all of herself, two weeks before her performance when all the other kids had their music picked out and their costumes ready, Delilah and I were still at a stand off over her choice of music. She always had to be different, edgy in some sort of way like when she came home with a nose ring at fifteen or a multitude of small tattoos throughout the next year, she couldn't pick something wholesome from _The Sound of Music_ or even compromise with Maria from_ West Side Story_. No, my daughter wanted to do _Rocky Horror_ or _Sweeny Todd, _little girl even had the nerve to look me right in the eye and suggest putting on fishnets and a corset and singing "Big Spender"- my eight year old wanted to sing about prostitutes and johns for her second grade music recital. Okay, that last one I think she just threw out there to piss me off, and it worked. We didn't talk for days after that fight. Salvation came when Rick finally got us to sit down together and keep our mouths shut for a family movie, that was my husband all over, his only night off of work and instead of going to the bar with Shane and watching the game he was spending it in the eye of the tornado trying to get his "two favorite girls" to just shut up and get along without telling us to shut up and get along. The movie just happened to be our favorite (Breakfast at Tiffany's), one we'd watch together since she was old enough to remember, as Audrey Hepburn plucked at her guitar with slim pretty fingers and sung out in her dainty voice I looked over at Delilah cuddled up with a cozy blanket around her at her father's other side, always the daddy's girl, her gaze transfixed on pixie like Audrey and her longing brown eyes effervescent even in black and white- that's when I knew the fight was over- she'd found her song. The night of her recital, decked out in a peddle pushers-sweatshirt-bandana over her hair version of Holly Golightly, Lilah was glowing when I saw her backstage plucking at her ukelele feeling all proud of herself for picking something so grown up- all four of the other solos were from Disney movies. I was proud of her too, Rick could see it all over my face as we hung back in the hall outside the doors of the King County Elementary School auditorium waiting on "uncle" Shane to come back from the John, people were really starting to flood in and I wanted to get seats up in the front before they were all taken. The smell of finger paint and play doe hung just under cleaning chemicals in the air as we whispered and laughed together, a faint tug on my shirt finally distracting me from cracking up at one of Rick's "Tall Tales from the Sheriff's Department".

"Mommy?"

Her voice sounded so much smaller, meeker than it had backstage when she was talking and laughing with her little group of friends as they practice their songs. Looking down to the little girl who was suddenly at my hip, her tiny hands clutching the fabric on the hem of my blouse like a safety blanket someone was trying to snatch away from her, I noticed her eyes scan the auditorium full of hundreds of parents and family members and when they finally looked back up at me those big blue doe eyes were glazed over with trepidation dulling the electricity I'd seen earlier.

"I don't wanna do this anymore."

It broke my heart how pleading those words were, how truly frightened my pretty girl looked as her hands trembled and her teeth chewed at the inside of her lip to stop it from quivering.

"Why not baby?"

Rick asked in that warm father tone the kind that had a way of wrapping around you like warm blanket made of Kevlar- nothing could make you feel safer, as he knelt down in front of her holding her delicate little face in his hands staring right into those electric blue eyes that had become so sad, so disappointed in herself.

"I can't make em' stick daddy, the words keep goin' outta my head, and my fingers won't work right on the strings, can we just go home?"

I could hardly stand it the way her brow scrunched together, her mouth turned down, her voice cracking with each syllable, I wanted to reach inside her, to take all that fear all that anxiety all that hurt away. And it killed me knowing I couldn't, knowing this was one of those times when I had to let her do it on her own. Rick looked up at me, mentally tapping out and giving mom the reins on this one, he had a way of knowing which one of us needed to handle something and since I usually had to be the strict one I was grateful he gave this to me. I squatted down next to him, taking Lilah's hands in mine, rubbing the tops soothingly with my thumbs the way only a mother could.

"You really wanna go home Lilah girl, I'll take you home. But before you decide I want you ta think about all these people, and your friends, and Miss Hildy who chose you special outta all the kids because she knew you can do this and so do I, and so does daddy. You ain't really gonna let a little stage fright run you off that easy are you?"

Looking between me and her dad something shifted in her eyes, something familiar I couldn't quite place yet, she sucked in a big breath shaking her head "no" and giving us kisses before heading off to join her class on backstage to practice for their group number, still trembling a little but going to do what she new she needed to do none the less. Dolores Michaels, our baby sitter Mandy's mother who had a young son a year above Lilah, had saved three good seats in the front for us. By the time we took them, even when Shane was in the building he was always late, the first grade class was finishing up their recorder rendition of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' although it really just sounded like a billion high pitched whistles going off at the same time- who ever had the idea of giving over 100 seven year-olds recorders should be shot somewhere nonlethal but painful. Obligatory claps from parents with perforated eardrums were heard all around as the curtains were drawn and Miss Hildy, a relic from the 60's if I ever saw one with her long granny skirt and her wavy dirty blond flower child hair, floated onto the stage animatedly with a microphone in one hand and a program in the other.

"Next up we have our second grade class solo, one of the most enthusiastic little ukelele players (no pun intended) I've ever had the privilege of teaching, please give a warm welcome to Delilah Mae Grimes of Mrs. Whitley's second grade class."

The lights on stage all went down and the room was dark, this sense of excruciating anticipation and anxiety rolled up in my gut like a white knuckled fist, as the clapping died down gradually and the curtains went up it only got worse. Then a single spotlight was cast on a my girl, side sitting on a stand alone window frame backgrounded by the painted scene of a tall New York apartment building. Time stopped when all I heard was quiet and all I saw was her, stone stiff looking down at her instrument like she didn't know what to do with it, in those few silent moments my heart stopped beating and my eyes caught hers when she finally looked up.

_Come on baby, you got this, I know you got this._

They pleaded, and there was that look again, that refuse-to-fail look, half determination half bravery, and almost all my daughter. Her fingers strummed and plucked at the strings of her ukelele clumsily for a moment before they got into the sweet understated rhythm. When her voice made it's way along side the melody the entire crowd listened to it's delicate yet strong candor, nothing could be heard in that room but Delilah Mae Grimes, singing her little heart out like her life depended on it, and in a way it did.

"Moooon riverrrr, wiiiiiider than a miiiiiile, I'm croooossin' you in styyyyyyle, somedayyyy. Ohh-ohh, dreeeeam makerrrr, you heeeeart breakerrrr, wherrrre-eeeeverrrr you're goinnnn', I'm gooooin' your way. Twoooo driiifterrrrs, off to see the worrrrld, there's such a-lot of worrrrld toooo seeee. Weee're af-ter the saaaame, raiiiinbow's eeeend, waitin' 'round the beeend, mah huckleberry frieeeend. Moooooon riiiiiiver, annnnnnd meeeeee... "

She had a presence I couldn't place but knew I'd seen before, an aura about her that made people want to look and listen, parents and teachers gazed at her entranced by it as she lulled them to a place of longing and loss and comfort. I hadn't noticed how tightly I was clutching Rick's firm hand until I managed to pull my eyes away from the stage long enough to look at my a husband, a feeling passing between us that lifted my heart up even further into my tightening throat, we made that- that beautiful child had come from us, and it was then that I recognized where I'd seen that steely look on Delilah's face, that commanding presence pouring out of her on stage just as surly as the tears pouring out of my eyes. I gave her her soft and wild russet-brown hair, her long lean legs, her high delicate cheekbones, her sweet and tender singing voice. But that bravery, that determination to fight her fear and do what she knew she needed to, that aura that grabbed you and made you pay attention, was all Rick.

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><p>Watching Delilah from my peripheral, inching her way slowly out of the Winnebago last night, all I could see was that eight year old tugging at the hem of my shirt, looking up at me with those big glassy doll eyes full of shame and misery, pleading with mommy to make it better, to take it all away. She practically ran out as soon as she got close enough to the door, I knew who she really saw instead of Shane passed out cold, knew what she felt seeing the lifelessness of his form on the too small bed in the back of the old Winnebago, I also knew she'd be back. My girl, my brave little girl, couldn't let fear or sadness stand between her and doing what she knew she had to do. Just like Rick, the man I love, the man I lost, the man I carry a piece of wherever I go through the daughter I know will always do the right thing. Whatever the cost.<p> 


	7. Chapter 6: Blame it on The Leeches

**Simple Man**

"_Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**Author's Note: **Easter, school and life in general have succeeded in kicking my ass this week and I'm so sorry this thing is so late and to make up for it I made this chapter my longest yet. Super big happy thank you to Zannna for subscribing and sn481 for favorite-ing.

**eloquent dreams: **Hahaha, I'm so glad you pulled through and read it knowing there would be no Daryl, for that you get a big dollop of Daryl in this chapter.

**eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBle: **I am beyond happy that I've gotten such positive responses for writing a chapter from Lori's view, and I've been looking forward to reading your story for the past week so keep an eye out for reviews from me.

**LittleRin26: **That is the exact response to the last chapter I was hopping for, thank you for taking the time to share it with me.

**Jezebella** **Corvus:** My brain is pretty much made out of musical references that no one else gets so I think we're in the same boat. I love how you get every reference, from Skynyrd to Rudyard Kipling (or as I like to call him K-dubs) to all the musicals I couldn't help but pack into the last chapter, it's beyond awesome. You pick up on everything I try to do and sometimes things I don't even realize I've done, and it's a good old fashion honer to write for a reviewer like you and I'm so grateful and lucky to have you as a reader.

**GraciellaRed47: **If it wasn't so impressive it would be scary how you pretty much read my mind every time I publish a chapter, part of the reason I wrote the last chapter and the introduction was to show how their kids effected Rick and Lori's relationship, like how they never fought on Carl or Delilah's birthdays. I also really wanted to shine a light on Lori as a mother and Delilah as a child, and I still can't believe how awesome you are at going through all details and taking away exactly what I hope you will, if it wasn't for you and Jezebella Corvus I would have no clue weather I was doing anything right or not and I can't stress enough how lucky and grateful and honored I am to have you as a reader and a reviewer.

Thank you all for your always helpful and much appreciated reviews, keep em comin', I hope all of you enjoy this chapter.

Oh and if it isn't already obvious I own nothing but my original characters and my plot line, I'm not getting paid for writing any of this and I have very little money- so don't sue. Someone pointed out to me that I hadn't done that for any of my chapters, better late than never I guess.

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Blame it on The Leeches<strong>

Things are never truly quiet in our small shanty town, even when most people had gone to bed and the few who stayed awake for watch duty seemed to let their minds roam in solitary worlds all on their own, going to places in their memory where there were no walkers and people were still number one on the food chain, going in circles over all they'd done, tormenting themselves over all they hadn't. Even with all that quiet, anxiety still buzzed palpably in the air, a silence so loud it was tangible. Here, floating in the cold water of the creek that ran through the quarry, silence was in it's truest form only disturbed by the bullfrogs ribbiting, the crickets singing their nightly lullabies, the trees swaying in the gentle summer breeze so rhythmically it was like they were holding a conversation with the wind, and the creek running slowly but steadily as it had and as it will until the end of time whether humans lasted that long or not.

There were too many feelings bubbling up to the surface today, too many things I'd been dealing with privately in small doses shoved mercilessly in my face. I tried in vein to rein in the tears seeping treacherously from my eyes as I practically ran out of the RV, tried so hard I completely missed the crowd of campers huddled in small groups around it, each listening to T-Dog and Morales recount the scene that had unfolded once the group of men had met up with Glenn and Shane in the woods.

"Now I don't like the crackah, but I gotta give it to em', he took that walkah down like he was steppin' on a spider in the John."

Dog had announced enthusiastically in that velvet smooth DJ voice he'd used to capture audiences over the ATL radio waves, he couldn't help the ah in his voice, like a kid who'd just seen the real Spider Man. If I hadn't been so focused on getting away from the group unseen I would have laughed and thrown T some smart ass comment about him wanting to take Daryl to prom or something. Although I'd held my tongue and was almost in the clear, Jaqui noticed me tiptoeing behind everyone, red rimmed eyes focused solely on the back path to the quarry.

"Lilah girl, what's goin' on?"

Five words, that's all it took to blow my cover and the crowed quickly grouped around me shooting rapid question from every direction, what's wrong, was Shane bit, is he alive, are you okay, how's your mom, how's Glenn, is Glenn okay? There were so many people, so many eyes fixed on me and the tears I couldn't get a handle on, my weakness pouring out like toxic sludge contaminating the camp. I just wanted to get out, get away, let this moment be my own in a private place where my faults and frailties were not exposed like the raw flesh of one of Daryl's squirrels stripped skinless on a drying rack. My brain began to throb in harmony with my heart pounding against my chest in panic before my arms parted the cluster of bodies, because that's all they were at that point, no faces or names just a barricade of flesh and bone blocking my way. I bolted, legs long and lean moving under me on their own accord so fast it was like I was flying, Doc Martens beating against the ground kicking up a thick and heavy cloud of dirt and gravel between me and the people I'd left behind, all of them. I was no longer in the trailer beside a fallen father, or in that hospital beside a dyeing father, I was no longer in King County fighting with a mother who longed for a daughter I could never be as I walked away from a pair of pleading blue eyes who longed for me to stay, or in camp with people who needed courage I just didn't have. I was nowhere running to a place that could never be found, a place where the dead were really dead, where my mom and I sat back on a lazy Sunday afternoon watching _My Fair Lady_, making jokes in bad British accents, while my dad taught Carl everything there was to know about mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges and pulling the weeds. A place where I told my dad how much I love him before it was too late, where I told my mom how much I still need her before she stopped being close enough to hear it, where I stayed and looked out for Carl like I always promised I would.

That place could never be reached because it didn't exist, but I cling to it nonetheless, keeping it in my pocket for when the world caves in around me and I can't stand being apart of it anymore. Like now, floating on the creek, cold waves softly rolling over me as my arms and legs move through the water like I'm making snow angels, it numbed the lingering ache in my muscles as well has my heart. I'd jumped in barely ten minutes ago, blood saturated with adrenalin coursing through my veins roaring like a wild river, lungs begging for air as they pulsed against my rib cage, legs threatening to collapse under me when before they were reveling in the sweet sensation of strain and stretch. It'd been a long time since I had a run like that, the last time being on a regulation track in eleventh grade when I won first place beating Linden County High at my last track meet. I'd regret it tomorrow when my legs felt like they were on fire with every step I took because I didn't stretch and I was so out of shape, but there were already so many things on my list of regrets that one more didn't phase me, I decided to just live in this moment of content where I didn't have to feel anything but the water cold and cleansing seeping down into my aching soul, washing away the torment. The moment couldn't last, nothing good ever did, not now, not then, not ever.

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><p>I'd planned on leaving the momentary sanctity of the creek on my own time, to keep this piece of calm and quiet all to myself for as long as I possibly could before I had to face the real world- as unreal as it seemed. Of course I hadn't factored in Daryl Dixon stomping his size twelve work boots all over it.<p>

"That water there's full up wi' leeches, jus' so ya know."

When most people say "just so you know" there's normally some underlying current of snark or pretension behind it, but Daryl really meant it, the inflection in his voice blatantly reads "I don't give a shit either way". Makes me wonder why he bothers saying anything at all as I doggie paddle to shore. When the water began to shallow I walked the rest of the way, immediately regretting jumping in with all my clothes on when the cold night air hit me and my body quaked from the chilling breeze. Daryl, leaning against one of larger the rocks a little further off the shore line, scoffed with a pop of his shoulders, the left side of his upper lip curling making the eye above narrow as he shook his head slightly.

"You have to be the dumbest bitch I ever met."

He remarked, even with the scowl, it was like he was telling me my shoes were untied- not an insult more like it was just a fact he happened to noticed as he watched me take off my boots and ring out my socks.

"Was smart enough to know how to get the white crusty stuff out'a yer socks…"

I replied breathlessly, a cheeky smirk flittering at the corner of my mouth as I crossed my arms in front of me grabbing the hem of my water soaked wife-beater and pulling it over my head revealing a full chest tucked into delicate lacy black bra cups, I thank god everyday I inherited most of my genetics from the more well endowed women on my fathers side, and a long torso lean with new muscle and wrapped in soft sun kissed skin. I caught the slight blush added to his ever deepening scowl but the miniscule swell of pride I felt, in his admiration of my body and the cleverness of my comeback, was quickly diminished as the pale tinge of bashful pink deepened into a dangerous warning red. Daryl had a short fuse, ready to ignite with the most insignificant spark, and I'd just splashed it with gasoline and struck a match. He pushed off from the rock he was leaning on and charged at me, the look in his eyes wild and untamed like a bull let out of a pen with a cowboy on it's back, acid dripping off his tongue as his normally cool and uncaring tone lit up with fire and brimstone.

"And who in the hell asked ya ta do that! Ain't nobody been cleanin' them **damn** close fer **days**, and all uh sudden you wanna play Mrs. Garrett an-"

"Wait what! No one's been pickin' up your laundry?"

No wonder Amy looked so guilty this morning, for the past three days she's been telling me to go ahead without her while she scrounged around the Dixon's tent for clothes, she always had a full tub when we met up on the path to the creek, who's clothes were those? Was she so intimidated by Merle that she didn't want to step foot on his little piece of territory even when he wasn't there?

"S'what I said! You dumb and deaf?"

Daryl was still spitting venom, steel blue eyes boring into me as he threw a towel forcefully at my shivering body. Squinting my eyes to get a better look at what was behind him on the big slab of stone he'd been leaning up against I saw he brought soap, another towel, and a change of fresh clothes (your welcome) down to the quarry with him. As I wrapped the surprisingly soft and warm grey terry cloth around me, Daryl continued his little tirade throwing out words like napalm bombs exploding in my ears as they hit the ground.

"And what the hell you runnin' off cryin' about makin' more noise that a hollerin' razor back, cat callin' any geek waitin' round to take a bite out'ta ur lil ass, ain't nobody dead, **girl**!"

He was breathing heavily by now, glaring at me with a deep ferocity highlighted by the beam of a swollen moon, it's blue light casting shadows over the thick cut muscles rolling under the taught sweat and grime glazed skin of his arms as his fists clenched, and illuminating the high sharp bone and naturally bowed in cheek on the left side of his face as his head tilted to one side. With every syllable he spoke Daryl came closer and closer to me until we were inches apart, so close I could feel his hot breath caress my face as he huffed and puffed. The aroma of cigarettes and Jim Beam, sweat and earth, testosterone and something spicy and familiar I couldn't place, lay thick and heavy in the air around us. Maybe the lack of physical contact with a man for months was making my body ache for it so bad I was going crazy, maybe I'm just another cliché cop's daughter swooning over the gritty bad boy, either way for reasons unknown a craving began to stir inside of me and all I could think about were those fists balled up in my hair, nails racking across naked skin, limbs tangled, clothes disheveled, _oh god is he still going off on me about fuck knows what? While I'm standing here noticing the way his shirt rides up, giving me a clear view of the faint V shape cut into his lower abdominal, as he points an accusing finger at me and every muscle in his arm flexes and strains under the skin. STOP! _There was no room for thoughts like that in a world like this, no place for fawning over boys when every decision you made could be the difference between life and death and survival was as precarious and fickle as walking a centimeter wide tight rope in high heeled stilettos. So I beat it down, back into the unholy place it had come from, only feeling relieved for a moment before I started paying attention to what Daryl was _saying_ and then my stomach dropped into my feet and exploded.

"...got leeches all over you, s'what you get for jumpin' in that damn creek like some thirsty god damned heifer-"!

Dread slithered down my trachea sucking the air out of my lungs, that's all I could manage to feel as I opened the towel and saw half a dozen slimy little black worm-like bodies feasting on the blood rushing through my veins against the delicate skin on my stomach. Suppressing the urge to scream in a moment of unadulterated panic as the slug-y parasites violating my blood stream glutinously, I inhaled deeply, arm reaching over, bridging the gap between us, he froze for a split second at the contact his mouth parted, words caught in the back of his throat. I could feel his pectoral tense under the back of my finger tips as they slid into the breast pocket of his sleeveless flannel and quickly found the half empty book of matches I'd seen him use to spark up a smoke on several occasions. Suddenly remembering himself his hand shot up, long thick fingers taking a hard hold of my wrist and violently pulling me toward him, the steel in his eyes cold and hard sparked a fire somewhere deep in me as he spat another vat of acid.

"The hell er you doin' now!"

Daryl growled almost suspiciously if you can sound suspicious and outraged at the same time. Jerking my arm this way and that as if that would make the answer come tumbling out, boring holes into me through his eyes as they scoured my leech infested body now toweless and almost naked and at the mercy of his gaze. Something powerful hit me me with his touch, running through my body like a bolt of electricity, what was once a craving ignited into pure unadulterated desire, for the heat of his touch, for the warmth of his mouth, for the pressure of his body on top of mine. It was almost scary how much I wanted this man- this stranger to take me, to rip off my clothes with his teeth and use every part of his tight able-body to do to me all of those vulgar and explicit things that grownups do in the dark. Before I could let my eyes start their wandering again, let my brain get too far into another gushing school girl fantasy that would more likely lead to fatality than fruition, I made myself feel the cold breeze pressing against my skin, and the cold hand cutting off my circulation, and the cold words spewing from the cold mouth I still had the faintest hint of longing for.

"Trying to get the blood thirsty slugs off mah body, if you'd be so kind as to let me, mean old ass."

That last part was mumbled through gritted teeth and tightened jaw, in a futile attempted at stomping those feelings down with an iron boot. I yanked my arm away throwing Mr. Dixon a glare of my own, and decided to hurry up and get these damn leeches off me so I can go back to camp and forget this ever happened, but before I could even attempt to get the thin card bored matchbook, curtsy of Juicy Juggs Gentleman's Club&Grill- "Come for the grits, stay for the tits!", Daryl highjacked it right out of my hands and stuffed it back into his pocket as he scoffed arrogantly and unsheathed his buck knife. The reflection of lunar light on the alarmingly long fatal blade of Daryl's skinning knife stopped my heart for a fleeting second, I had the briefest faintest flash of the hunter in question slitting my throat over a book of matches, until he kneeled down in front of my exposed stomach and slid the blade cautiously, delicate but swift, between my skin and the bloodsucker smack dab in the middle of my sternum.

"Lord, don't you city people know nothin'? Burnin em' js makes em spit back whatever they sucked up, 'fectin the wound, 'f pneumonia don't get you from jumpin' ur lil' ass in that **damn** water lime disease would'a **done** it."

If he'd looked up, he would have seen my eyes flutter shut as I reveled in the fire and ice of his hand gripping my hip to keep me still and the cold dull side of the blade sweeping my skin, he would have known for sure that the involuntary shiver that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the biting breeze and everything to do with his hot breath stroking my midriff as he exhaled just as steady as he held the blade running over my skin. The leeches were popping off like pogs, hitting the gravel with a near silent thud, in less than a minute the only evidence they were there at all were the small red blotches tainting my otherwise clear skin. I couldn't help feeling like it was over too quickly, and I couldn't help hating myself for it as the absence of Daryl's hand on my hip felt greater than it's presence. Dammit, I have to stop doing that, going off into dreamland while the real world, however Si-Fi nightmarish it seems, continues going on without me. If the night the Dixons joined camp taught me anything it was that leaving what's real behind got you killed, or close to it in my case, and it was about damned time I stopped running, from people, from reality, and faced up to what was really going on. Shane was hurt. My mother needed me. Carl needed me. First things first though, Daryl Dixon had gotten more than his fill of cracks at me today and now that I was paying attention to the man's grumpy grumbling I was sick of it.

"Man can never get any god damn privacy 'round here, come down ta get clean and I end up playing Marry Poppins for some spoiled litt-"

"Enough, ya know for someone who's s'posed to be made for all this survival shit ya sure do a lot uh complainin',"

Stuffing my feet back into my boots I shoved my socks into my pockets before putting my still slightly damp tank top over my head as continued dryly but still in that annoyingly calm tone I'd learned and mastered a long time ago from my father,

"By the way you're welcome for cleaning your dirty ass clothes even if I did have to deal with your dirty ass brother and don't even try to argue cause we both know it's true."

He looked furious, picking up his soap and towel, all the horrible things he wanted to say to me building up in his throat

"Bes shut your mouth 'bout my brother."

I could still hear him grumble under his breath, words he didn't think I heard but I did, as I walked toward the trail back to camp, I didn't want to stop and I tried to get myself to hurry up and move along but my father's calm couldn't win out over my mother's stubborn and I couldn't fight the urge to get the last word in.

"Oh, and I think we both know my ass is not little."

I smirked arrogantly at him over my shoulder, enjoying the way his lip curled up but no words came out of his mouth, before continuing on my way, an extra sway to my hips just for good measure as I walked leisurely back to camp feeling like I'd won something however immature and pointless that was since we were sill living in a post apocalyptic world where cannibalistic corpses roamed the earth slowing devouring the flesh of the living until one day I fear there will be nothing left. It still felt good, a small accomplishment I was proud of until I heard the tell tail jingle of Daryl's belt as he pulled down his jeans and a heat began to flourish in between my thighs, a Pavlovian response I'd obviously developed over years of experience not linked to daryl in any way. He was miffed and red in the face, but I was the one walking away drooling like a bitch in heat, _oh yeah Lilah you won_.


	8. Chapter 7: Letting Go

**Simple Man**

"_Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**A/N:** Hey ya'll it's been a while, I turned nineteen this year and have been doing all this stuff I felt I should do before I'm officially not a teenager anymore like going to Coachella and getting a pointless tattoo and traveling and just being dumb and doing crazy things that I can look back on years from now (in a rocking chair on my porch surrounded by grandchildren) and say "I remember seeing the first holographic dead person they ever made." so that's what I've been doing the past four months if you were wondering. Any way this chapter was meant to be apart of something longer but it just didn't flow together well so I chopped it off and am now editing the second part. I'll be doing shout outs and all that good stuff next chapter, I don't have time for it now, just know I love and adore all of you and am flattered and appreciative of your subs and reviews thank you for being so patient and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint even though it's super short even for me.

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Letting Go<strong>

When I got back to camp I was both embarrassed, in retrospect bursting out in tears in front of everyone was almost equivalent to tearing off all my clothes and running around stark naked in front of the whole camp, and incredibly sorry for worrying the group primarily Jacqui who gave me a tongue lashing like you wouldn't believe ("Lil' girl if you ever scare me like that again, I'll knock the kink outta' ur curl" it was tinged with a bit of humor but I didn't walk away doubting she'd do it) though I guess that's a different kind of sorry. I really had worried them running off like that and staying gone for over an hour, although Dale did inform me he'd kept his eye on what little he could see of me through the darkness from his post on top of the RV after he was done tending to Shane, I was half remorseful that I'd given everyone such a fright when they'd had enough terror prodding at them with a long pointy stick for the night and half grateful and flattered that so many people cared enough to scold me for my trespasses which they all understood after talking to my mother. My mother, who surprisingly enough welcomed me into the small group huddled around Shane (consisting of her Carl Carol and Sophia) with a warm smile instead of a two minuet diatribe about the danger I'd put myself in and how worried she'd been which she obviously wasn't, in fact she acted like she knew I'd be back the whole time even before I knew it. She beckoned me to her with one long outstretched arm the other nudging Carl in a silent command to give up his seat on the only other fold out camping chair in the tiny space between my mom and Carol, Carl rolled his eyes knowing this was coming the second I walked in and begrudgingly moved to sit next to Sophia on the bed opposite Shane's, pouting like a tween who still had to sit with the small children on Thanksgiving, taking my rightful place at the proverbial grownup's table I chatted quietly with Carol and my mother going through the supply lists and making notes like "running low" or "use soon" or crossing things off completely as we all kept an eye on Shane.

About two hours later both kids were starting to doze off, heads drooping down then popping back up as soon as they hit a shoulder, eyes shut tight as both mouths formed wide Os and yawned with exhaustion. Carol stopped in the middle of a tirade against our handmade laundry detergent, which did little to cleanse the camp's clothes unless you scrubbed them with it until your arms felt like two rubber bands about to fall off your torso, to look over at the two sleepy children.

"I think it's time to get them to bed."

Mom commented smiling at the way Carl and Sophia were slumped against each other nodding off together like puppies in a create.

"Lord I didn't notice how late it was, Ed'll have a fit if he wakes up to do his business and we're not there. Sophia baby it's time to get to bed."

Carol looked panicked as she gave her daughter a poke and took her tiny hand helping her get to her feet, the fear of Ed's wrath urging her to move as quickly as physically possible through the narrow space in the middle of the RV and out the door.

"We're gonna tuck in too, comin' honey?"

My mother asked fallowing slowly to accommodate Carl, who was dragging his feet (too tired to verbally protest), I opted to stay with Shane and although the look on her face said she'd prefer if I got some sleep she didn't argue. The room was eerily quiet with the exception of Dale's occasional footsteps on the roof of the RV when he'd restlessly maneuver his fold out beach chair a different way, and without the distraction of discussing canned rations and toilet paper usage I started to feel a little anxious myself. It doesn't do any good to dwell on things in the past you cant change, but here in the emptiness of an old Winnebago staring down at a man who is the closest thing to a father I had left, I couldn't help the endless montage of mistakes and regrets running through my head on an endless loop.

_The look on my mom's face, like a cold hard hand had just reached out and slapped her, while I laid into her with unholy furry. Spitting out words I didn't mean. Causing pain I couldn't comprehend because I wasn't a mother getting verbally assaulted by a child I spent twelve hours pushing through my birth canal and over a decade sacrificing for only to have it blow up in my face like Hiroshima mushroom clouds. I was all blind anger when I walked out that door, fueled by adrenalin and working myself up even more as I drove past the King County Sign and replayed every bad thing that's ever happened between me and y mother in my head, and even then I felt that pang of leaving something behind, so sharp it pierced through my stomach and dropped to my feet._

_Carl's voice, slightly distorted by a two bar cell phone connection and a bar in Houston full of people too drunk to realize how loud they were, telling me to come home so he wouldn't have to face our parent's marital problems alone. "She's really mad at him Lila, I think she'll kick him out forever this time". I could hear mom yelling in the background, her words so passionate in their malice they were teetering on sobs, muffled by four walls but too strong to be silenced (my mother in a nutshell). Over the loud chatter of hundreds of bar patrons and the undercurrent of pulsing bass thudding out of the jukebox I still heard the gloom in Carl's voice and the desperation for comfort and shelter no child should have to feel at home with his parents, making the urge to go back more potent than ever but my pride and stubborn nature wouldn't allow it and all I could do was I had to go and that I loved him before snapping the cell shut and downing another shot of Patron._

_Then there was my dad, silent and still in a stiff hospital bed hooked up to a dozen ominous looking machines, their mechanical hearts humming as they worked to keep my fathers flesh and blood heart beating. The hands that once fed me pureed carrots, tied my shoes and snapped my prom pictures were lifeless and still at his side and if I didn't stop myself I could imagine his body in the same position laying peacefully in a casket. After leaving home two years ago it had only taken me a few months of driving from one city to the next before settling in Austin, I found a job at a local dive where I waited tables and busted my ass for only slightly more than minimum wage and eventually got my own place, a better car, a bank account and a few friends I could count on to help me move a body. But it still never felt like home, even compared to sitting in a hospital next to my near dead daddy, eating fast food and only sleeping in a warm bed when my mother and I traded shifts spending the night with him._

I fell asleep gradually during that last thought, it was surprisingly cathartic letting myself think about those things, made me feel less repulsed by them and myself, and just before the darkness under my eyelids completely took over I realized I had to start letting those things go, because that life is over left behind as dead as the creatures that now inhabit the small town it was birthed in. Maybe the only good thing about the end of the world is that everyone gets a fresh start, what you did and who you were doesn't matter half as much as who you're willing to be, I'm going to be a better me.


	9. Chapter 8: Twice Dead

**Author's Note: **It has been over two years since I've updated this story and I'm so sorry from the bottom of my heart, life got very hectic and writing was lost in the shuffle. However, I am back, finally. For any of you still interested I am truly grateful and for anyone new who's interested welcome. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, please subscribe and review if you loved it, fuck off if you didn't (kidding). Seriously though even if this is the worst thing you've ever read I eagerly welcome your criticism.

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><p><strong>Simple Man<strong>

_"__Be a simple kind of man, be something you love and understand."_

**Chapter Eight:**

I woke up with a crick in my neck from falling asleep in that damn chair, my legs felt like noodles from running the day before and my hair was all knotted and frizzy because I didn't comb it after coming out of the lake. Not moving to the bed when I felt myself dozing off, not stretching properly before exercise, not combing my hair after getting it wet, I don't think I've ever felt regret so quickly.

"Good morning, pretty girl."

Shane greeted from a sitting position on the bed, with Carl at the foot, Bully in my little brother's hands. The frog gave a "ribbit" in my direction, _good morning to you too, handsome_.

"How are you feeling."

My voice sounded like I hadn't used it in a decade, as if my voice box needed a dusting off or a nice stretch like my stiff limbs. Shane's brow creased, looking over my disheveled clothing and wild hair, worry clouded his chocolate brown eyes.

"How are **you** feeling?"

He asked reaching out to put a hand on my knee, warm and comforting, _but not the same_. None of that now, no more moping. When I answered him, the pact I made with myself crumbled, I crumbled, even if I would forever long for a touch that I could never feel again, I still had Shane's.

"You scared me."

I didn't mean for it to come out so shaky, so frail and paper thin you could poke a hole through the words as they sat in the space between us, it felt good to let it out. Even if only a little. Just to let someone see it and not be afraid this little bit of weakness would make them weaker. He lightly held my wrist and pulled me toward him, cradling me to his bare chest lovingly with his nose in my hair, he was a rock, firm and steady, something we could prop ourselves up against while we licked our wounds and let them heal.

"Hey now," he said tenderly, "don't you worry about me, nothing in this world could ever take me away from this family, I'm not goin' anywhere, yuh hear?"

I didn't cry, I wouldn't let myself, but I still needed those words more than I needed a shower and a hot meal. By the smell of me and the low beastly gurgling in my stomach it turned out to be a desperate need. I nodded against him and untangled myself from his arms after a moment, regathered myself and wagged a playful hand through his curly brown hair mussing it up before kissing his cheek.

Now that this drama was over I could give him shit. Shane Walsh, the man who took out eight guys in a bar brawl over a Bulldogs game, almost got his ticket punched taking a tumble and a conk on the head from a rock.

"It was a big rock! Very large and heavy! I had a geek on top of me did they tell you that part? Don't you have chores to do?"

As Carl and I laughed he pouted, with a hint of humor playing at the corner of his mouth, before shuffling us out of the RV and asking us to send our mother for him if we saw her.

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><p>"Did Shane really beat up eight guys at Sparky's?"<p>

Carl asked, sideswiping pebbles and pine cones lazily from our path and sending them flying toward the fire pit, after we left Shane in search of breakfast.

"Depends on who's telling the story."

My mouth twitched into a crooked smile, a vision of our phone ringing off the hook the next day stood out vividly, neighbors calling to gossip about the event and trying to pump my mother for any dirt they could gather to pass around to other neighbors, who would soon call and try their hand at the information well that was The Sheriff's wife. Old biddies and bored housewives, the memory made me chuckle. The sun was just rising from below the trees, throwing a blanket of pink and purple hues over a blue cloudless sky , the air was slightly cooler than it had been last night delivering a roaming breeze that dried the sleep sweat from my skin. The big bright gas ball in the sky made my mother's hair glow radiantly, reds and dark blondes highlighted in it's gaze, she smiled a smile that could rival her solar admirer as we approached. Carol and Amy stood by doling out rations of kidney beans, rice, and _oh good sweet Jesus there is a god_! Someone had gotten up at that crack of dawn and went fishing! I don't know what kind of fish or who it was, I'm betting Dale, but we all got a thick juicy cutlet and my heart hurt from how hard it was fighting to grow ten times bigger inside my chest cavity. No more Spam I am, god bless us every one.

"No way! Who caught the fish?"

Carl exclaimed, running ahead of me and taking a plate, immediately plucking his fish off to greedily munch on it's tender flesh.

"We made it out of Spam."

Amy replied seriously before the pink meat could pass his lips and he promptly set it back down and glared at it like it stole his wallet.

"She's kidding honey, Daryl caught it last night, go sit down and eat."

The kid rushed off to take his place next to Sophia, "You fell for that?" I heard her say softly between airy little laughs. Daryl caught fish last night, I didn't recall seeing any equipment with him during our heated encounter, an image of the younger Dixon shirtless and darting quick hands into the creek coming back up with fish popped into my brain but the illicit thought was harshly thwarted and scrubbed away. My eyes shifted to the left without my permission, seeking out the object of this daydream. The Dixons were sitting around their own small fire cooking a rather large brown trout on a makeshift spit over the open flame, Daryl sat open legged elbows on his knees skillfully filleting a smaller trout, an old fishing pole leaning against the tree behind him. _Pity, _I almost said out loud.

"Oh my god you're staring at Daryl Dixon."

I jumped, embarrassment coloring my cheeks with the deepest shade of red, at the sound of Glenn's amused and very, very, **very** loud voice sneaking up from behind me.

"Shut up, Rhee."

I warned lowly through my teeth, turning around and giving his bony arm a punch for good measure, his smile opened wide into a gaping O, the light of discovery dawned behind his eyes, _oh no_.

"I was totally kidding, Grimes, but...wow, do you like...Daryl? You have a crush on Daryl...wow."

"Keep your voice down!"

I whisper shouted in one breath, then hit him again, grabbing his wrist I pulled his lanky body with me as I ducked behind the tail end of the Winnebago. Glenn's mouth was still agape, no words coming out, then the biggest goofiest shit eating grin spread across the expanse of his diamond shaped face and a laugh, so hard it got caught in the back of his throat, puffed out wheezy breaths from his body.

"Stop looking at him! Glenn I will feed you to a deadhead just so I can kill you twice, knock it off, no one can know about this, got it?"

Once he calmed down, Glenn looked me over seriously, realizing my words were more a plea than a threat his smile turned sympathetic. Softly he assured me.

"I wouldn't tell anyone Lilah, you're one of the only friends I've got, I wouldn't risk loosing you over some weird crush you have on a serial killer."

He nudged my shoulder gently with a closed fist.

"This coming from a guy who jerks off to Zelda characters?"

I nudged him back and slung an arm over his shoulder as we walked back to get breakfast.

"So why him?"

Glenn whispered in conspiracy as we passed little groups of people huddled together in conversation over fresh fish and Spanish rice, I spared just one more look at the man in question, seeing only his back as he walked down to the creek with a handful of clothes I suspected carried a fishy oder, and couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Honestly it was a crush, a harmless unreciprocated crush on a good looking guy who smelled like earth and cinnamon gum and cigarettes, had the body of a professional athlete and the face of a model if he ever shaved but without the vanity and the ego, the rough edges of a guy I would have tried to smooth out just a touch in high school, and a voice that gave me shivers even when it was calling me dumb. Even more honestly, I think I need to have a crush, someone to occupy the time I have at night with lurid thoughts that left me pinning for sex instead of thinking of my dead father and pinning for all the things we had lost when our world went up in smoke and taken over by dead people, both the walking and the still. This was too personal to confess to Glenn and at the moment it was more feelings than coherent thoughts anyway so instead of spilling my guts I said;

"I dunno, guess he's just the only decent looking guy available right now."

"You really should be nicer to the people keeping your dirty secrets."

Glenn replied quickly before flicking me right in the middle of my forehead and running away like a little girl to grab one of the last remaining plates of food from my mother.


End file.
